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Reminisance

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Julia stepped inside the cosy hotel room in Nuwara Eliya, Srilanka. It was a place which Julia and her husband Raj loved. It was the place which they chose for their honeymoon. 30 years have passed since then; their kids Ron and Becky were mature enough to handle themselves now. This was a much-needed trip or maybe her last trip, the host of diseases that she had may not permit her to travel again. Raj reminded her to take her medicines before lunch. They visited Lake Gregory, a place which had many memories. They sat and talked nothing, but just admired the sprawling vast water body. She spent the most wonderful 3 days of her life that she could cherish even on her deathbed. On the last day of her trip, she smiled at Raj and thought, I loved this trip. The lady at the reception thanked her and cleared her bill, while Julia walked alone to her cab, carrying her favourite book ‘PS I love you'. Love and fate can never be predicted.
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  Merciless World Delicious and flavourful Biriyanis, Chinese noodles to Italian pizzas, South Indian vada to meals, Malabar pulav to north Indian Panner Labadar, Sweet jeelabi or mouth-watering gulab jamuns, Tall ice creams in glasses or cool milk shakes.   I have it all, All flavours and flagrances, To tease my gastronomic indulgence, And check my level of patience.   Like Indian rishis, I resist temptation, Day in and day out, it’s the same, I sigh and smell the aroma before I hand it.   My imagination runs wild, How would they enjoy it! May be uncover delicately, like virgin’s clothes, Who unfurls all the world’s pleasure, In just a bowl or two.   Like a betrayed lover, Sighing over the culmination of his beloved, I long and part with all that I have, Day in and day out, Not minding my rumbling stomach, Mercilessly pick it away, not even a morsel to offer me, They call me the FOOD DELIVERY MAN .
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A father

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The body of a young boy in his 20s wrapped in a dirty white blanket was lying on the stone table, amidst the stench of cadavers and phenol smell. Gopi sat at the table near the body, and ate his breakfast with no qualms, not bothering about the sounds of the parents of the dead boy. This was his job, he worked in the morgue, day in and day out he was used to seeing blood, dead bodies, and gory scenes of victims, but nothing deterred him. ‘Gopi how many times have I told you not to eat here. How can you eat with this smell and a dead body?’ Dr Gautham, a trained pathologist, was in charge of the autopsy that day. ‘what’s the case?’ ‘head injury, skull damage, half his head is missing and he washed his hands after closing his tiffin box. ‘ok’ and Gautham examined the body from a distance, he asked Gopi to perform the autopsy while he watched. ‘ok I will give the report’. Gopi sat on his chair and didn’t bother about the wailing outside of the victim’s mother. This was his routine for the...
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